Countdown to Meltdown in 5, 4, 3...

I feel like I am teetering on the edge of a meltdown. My insides are racing and my heart rate reflects it. My mind is unable to focus on anything for any substantial amount of time. I am transposing words in the spoken word, and letters as I type. (Thank God for automatic spell check and correction!) My eyelids are heavy. My chest hurts. My eyes sting from holding back the tears.

I kind of resemble that chocolate bar that was put in the microwave for 30-60 seconds. It retains its shape until it’s touched. It’s only then that one realizes that it is melted; unevenly at that.

So, I’m just going to give in to it. You know…the gut wrenching, wailing cry. The cleansing type. I believe in them. While nothing gets solved in the outside world, it gives me a chance to purge. And purge I will.

Don’t worry about me. This isn’t a pity-pot kind of cry. This is an acknowledgment of my humanness and will no doubt be a time of prayer. Deep, spontaneous, and honest prayer.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Much needed downtime.

I still feel so disjointed. For the first time ever, since I have been flying non-revenue with SC’s buddy passes, I did not make the flight which I originally selected. It’s no big deal. I’m in no rush to get home. I’m just grateful I have a sister who loves and supports me, and shares her buddy passes freely. And I’m grateful Navy son is tech savvy enough to have set up my laptop to get an internet connection via my phone so that I have something to do while I wait here, and possibly again in Tucson. Again, that would be no big deal. The trip out here was a whirlwind and I didn’t have time to just “be”. Maybe this is HP’s way of slowin’ it (me) down. Though I am in the middle of a crowded airport terminal, I get the chance to be “alone” with my thoughts and feelings for the first time since I landed on Wednesday.

I’m not sure the realization of this whole nightmare has hit me yet. It is much more real for FW’s wife and children, and for the family and friends who had him physically present in their daily lives. I know that when the reality hits, that I have a support group in the fellowship to help me every step of the way. For that I am truly blessed.

So as I sit here and try to pass the time, I also try to process the interpersonal dynamics of the past several days. It’s amazing to have been sober and clear headed through this. And there is a lot to discuss and process with sponsor and friends. I’m not certain how quickly I will be able to do that. I may need just a day or so to lock myself up and cry. Or I might not.

Guess I’ll just take it one day at a time and see what happens.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Kilroy Was Here

BP meds and side effects are stabilizing as much as they can under the current circumstances. I flew home to Chicago yesterday for a family emergency that I learned of late Tuesday evening.

I am grateful that I can be fully present for my family, even in my grief. We were mutually supportive and loving as we said goodbye last night to my oldest brother, FW.

The gathering at the hospital yesterday was surreal. I don’t think the reality of it all has truly set in, at least for me. And I have those feelings of having to be strong for those around me that make me wonder about how safe I feel with expression of true emotion. It will take time, I know. I must remember to nurture myself first through this.

Dinner at Kilroy's last night was weird. Everyone was drinking. I never thought about it once. This restaurant/bar was a favorite hangout for the family and a place where my brother once “bounced”. It seemed appropriate. And for the first time, I had the opportunity to be DD. That felt strange. Driving BB (Baby Brother) to safety in his newly “amped” pickup. Not only did he trust me (only one of two people who have experienced this privilege) with his truck, he trusted me with his life.

Organ procurement takes place today. The Gift of Hope. Even in death, FW is a good man.

My children will arrive soon. My son, today or tomorrow, and my girls on Friday. I think having them together for the first time since my Father’s funeral in October of 2008 may be emotional, but I’m trying not to worry about it too much. I have seen Son several times since then; I have not been as blessed concerning the girls. I’m still processing these feelings. It’s heart wrenching to think I may only see them under sad circumstances. But, alas, I cannot predict the future. I can only deal with what’s in front of me and try to just “be” instead of make up for lost time or undo the past.

Right now, it’s time for coffee and conversation at the Ponderosa with BB, SC (older sister), and BILM (her husband). Enjoying each other’s company and taking it just one step at a time.

Goodbye FW. You are a good man. I love you.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Say Goodnight, Gracie

With the state of unrest that I have been experiencing over the last couple of weeks, tonight’s meeting could have been a disaster, because, after all, it’s always about me. Isn’t it?

Before the meeting, one of my very closest friends did something that hurt my feelings. He meant it as a joke, but I did not find it funny. I had previously discussed with him my need to set a little distance in some of my relationships where I was feeling smothered. He has been very understanding, giving me what I asked for…letting me take the lead. Because I have not been calling him every day, and because of my near miss last week, he leaned in to me and made a show of smelling me, particularly near my mouth. When we talked a little while later, I communicated how hurtful that was and asked him to, in the future, just ask if I had been drinking. He said he knew I hadn’t because I wouldn’t have shown up at the meeting if I had. Uh…I’m an alcoholic. No telling what I would do if I were drinking. I don’t know if he was joking or if there was some truth to his actions, and it’s not my place to argue with his motive or intention. I can only take his words at face value and let him know my feelings. I think we put it behind us. Only time will tell. I know he was coming from a place of love, but I need to do a little work surrounding my initial reaction. Definitely on the agenda to discuss with Sponsor tomorrow.

From there, things kind of piled up. I forgot to ask people to read the two customary readings prior to the start of the meeting, the timer did not show, the clean-up person did not show, and the ticket person did not show. Luckily people stepped up to the plate. As always.

The speaker was wonderful. He talked about becoming an orphan at the age of 41 with only 3 months clean. Since my father passed away when I was 10 months sober, I immediately felt relief. I always thought I was the only one who felt like an adult orphan. It just goes to show that there really isn’t anything unique about me.

During the speed sharing, my friend, D, who relapsed 2 weeks ago after 22 months, shared that he was going to “do this with as much grace and dignity” as he could. Wow, did that strike a nerve. Grace? Dignity? There has been nothing graceful or dignified about what’s going on with me lately. And then I remembered. In the first few weeks in the recovery home, (let’s call it Fouse) I had a meltdown. A serious meltdown. In my rambling during this period I was so incredibly self-deprecating. C was the first to comfort me. Her words? “No one said you had to do this gracefully.” ZING!!!

So, though it was truly not a burning desire, since I am secretary and follow the last share, I identified and told this story for D, for C, for the newcomer, and yes, for me.

So what could have been a disaster was actually a success.
1) I was able to address and avoid a resentment almost immediately,
2) A bunch of alcoholics were flexible and pitched in,
3) Someone who really struggles, got to participate by volunteering to read,
4) I didn’t take the absenteeism personally,
5) I was reminded that I am not terminally unique,
6) I got the message and passed it on,
7) I stayed sober another day.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Left behind...again.

The glory of friendship is not the outstretched hand, nor the kindly smile, nor the joy of companionship; it is the spiritual inspiration that comes to one when you discover that someone else believes in you and is willing to trust you with a friendship. RALPH WALDO EMERSON

I feel sad. C’s circumstances are such that she will be moving at the end of the month.

I wish there were something I could do to change her situation. This is a difficult time for her. My heart aches for her struggles. My heart aches for the loss of her physical presence in my life. It is difficult to find a friendship that brings such comfort; a friendship that adds value to my life. I thought she was someone who would always be around.

This is a pattern in my life. One I have not dealt with very well. The leaving…the vows to stay in touch…the feeble attempt…the walls that started to fall…the barriers being reconstructed…the loneliness. It has been my experience since I was 4 years old. I can name them all. They were so few.

Sponsor is encouraging more women’s meetings. And that scares me, though I know it is the best course of action. My relationships with women have always been the most difficult to forge. I cannot continue to shy away from that which frightens me. I may miss out on a truly wonderful thing.

Like my friendship with C.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Any lengths.

Since yesterday’s romance, I have been talking to anyone who will listen. I phoned my sponsor after I spoke with my daughter, I told my roommates, I told M and others at the recovery home, I shared about it from the podium tonight. I was of service again to the woman who is renewing her vow of sobriety. I lead tonight’s meeting as the secretary, and secured speakers through the end of June. I attended a planning meeting for a fundraiser for AALA and offered my services without hesitation or self imposed restrictions. And I received and accepted warmth, love, hugs, and kisses at the meeting’s end. (Even from the person I’ve been avoiding who happened to show up tonight for the first time in months…Providence?)

The advice I received is as varied as our backgrounds and stories. What rang louder than anything for me was the chat I had with JBM, the woman that relapsed after a significant number of years of sobriety. I really picked her brain today (and it was her infinite wisdom that I share tonight so she “arranged” for my lottery ticket to be pulled…yeah, we do that sometimes when schtuff like this happens in our fellowship). I was most shaken by the fact that I could not sufficiently conjure up “the consequences” of taking that drink. What she said was…”Honey, if none of those things could stop you then, what makes you think they’d stop you now?” That made sense. She brought me back to what I was feeling on my last drunk (which was actually anticlimactic) and the hamster wheel I was on to kill those feelings. That was painful.

I don’t usually re-read my journal entries but I did this afternoon. The ones from the first days sober, and the ones from the first few days living in the recovery home. (I was sober 23 days when I moved in there, not that it matters. The feelings were the same.) I can’t even believe I am the same person. I’m not actually. The packaging is the same, but everything else has changed.

Even today, when I think back on yesterday’s seduction, I can’t believe that was me. My brain. Without mental defense against the first drink. There are moments when I am shaken, but for the most part, I feel like an objective observer. OO. It already feels like eons ago. I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or not.

Someone asked me this evening if it was the interruption by the phone or the person calling that stopped me. Would it have made a difference if it were my son, my baby girl, a friend, a bill collector, etc.? I honestly don’t know. I never want to be close enough again to find out. I’m assured by long-timers that it still happens even with 15+ years. With that in mind, I will pick brains, work the steps, listen, pray and meditate, go to meetings, work with other alcoholics, be of service, pick up the phone, and stand on my head if I have to. Any lengths.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.